wig splittas and dome crackers that’s all i’m accustomed to allergic to suckas and bustas and get to sneezin’ and sh*t ain’t affiliated wit pathological liars and name droppers just bosses and mafia n*gg*s, slick talkers and collar poppas

drug traffic and racketeer bank robbers young pits pants saggin’, totin’ and packin’ choppers having this ghetto money tryin’ to stay papered up like a fax i keep tellin’ all these n*gg*s out this way you ain’t got to have dandruff to have scratch

when i get finish wit cha, you gonna feelin’, dog tired, boss jump shop, hop flight, cop ride and tellin’ finally smell it and chop it up wit fonzarelli

these n*gg*s be sounding like they talking ’bout they on one but when i come, they only f*ck up, one run like home run fire-bringa, rhyme-singa, p*ssy-banga, young d*ck-slanga they funky like kunta kinte own thang on my bike i’m ridin’ the f*ckin’ rap game on the handle bars

livin’ in california ain’t always so cute like new orleans f*ck around and get yo head put on flat in a road rage dispute the poor get poorer and the rich keep gettin’ richer these h**rs keep pourin’ and the spicks keep getting slicker

i play the game for what it’s worth hard like penitentiary steel, not soft like a nerf i know some cats, seriously, homey, maybe twice ain’t neva been p*ss four blocks in they li-a-life

dudes can’t even dream a dream about gettin’ paid just sittin’ on the corner, sittin’ for about a decade i might not be the sharpest tool in the shed but i’m a rebel some cats’ll bury their self alive just to prove they know how to use a shovel

and about you sounding like everybody else *ss rappers knock my flow but in the back of your head, you really be sayin’ that their n*gg* right their be snappin’ that n*gg* from the back i ain’t even gon’ lie pimpin’ that n*gg* a fool right there he got a fool style that n*gg* there can go go